


could you then lavish some kindness on me?

by AliuIce0814, LittleBird20



Series: Georgia Peaches SMAU [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Author is Nonbinary, Coming Out, Gay Disaster Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Disaster Richie Tozier, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Georgia Peaches SMAU, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Stanley Uris, Self-Esteem Issues, nonbinary Pat Blum (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliuIce0814/pseuds/AliuIce0814, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBird20/pseuds/LittleBird20
Summary: "I need to talk to both of you about something when you get home."Stan comes out to their boyfriends.Parts 117-120 of the Georgia Peaches SMAU.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Series: Georgia Peaches SMAU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126352
Comments: 1
Kudos: 60





	could you then lavish some kindness on me?

**Author's Note:**

> This may not make a whole lot of sense if you're not caught up with the Georgia Peaches SMAU (@GeorgiaSmau on Twitter). If you still want to read this without reading GP first (which, you should read it anyway so that you can meet nonbinary Pat Blum because they are a DELIGHT), you should know
> 
> -Stan, Richie, and Eddie are all 20somethings living together in Atlanta, where they moved about a month ago  
> -Stan is nonbinary  
> -they figured it out recently  
> -they have reached a breaking point and need to tell Richie and Eddie, a.k.a. their boyfriends. 
> 
> Both authors are nonbinary!
> 
> CW for coming out, self-esteem issues, some emetophobia triggers, and an anxiety attack. Title from the vita and virginia bot on twitter

Stan's never been sick to their stomach from anxiety, not even at their disastrous bar mitzvah. They clam up, or can't sleep, but they don't get sick. 

As they sit on the living room couch, waiting for Richie and Eddie to get home, their stomach lurches. They swallow, throat clicking. 

When Stan used an hour of PTO to come home early, they thought they would only get home ahead of Eddie. Stan planned on sidestepping Richie and any of his loud, anxious questions and hitting the shower. 

But neither Eddie nor Richie is home yet. Stan knows Richie's off work and that he had lunch with Eddie, but surely he's not still at Eddie's work. Right? Stan's legs jitter. 

After Stan’s shower, they changed into a sweater and jeans. The outfit isn't obviously different from anything Stan wears around the house. But the sweater, a soft pink cable-knit, is the most unobtrusive piece of clothing Bev has sent Stan. It's designed to be genderless, and that's enough to make the acrylic and polyester feel like the quietest projection of how they feel inside.

When two cars rumble into the driveway, Stan sits up straight. Richie and Eddie's voices echo on the porch, bouncing off of each other and overlapping so much that Stan can't make out individual words. As soon as Richie and Eddie come through the front door and see Stan, they fall silent. Stan's chest squeezes tight.

"Hey," Eddie says tersely. He stares at Stan with his huge dark eyes as Richie shifts from foot to foot behind him. Then, all in a rush, Eddie demands, "Are you breaking up with us?"

Stan's whole body jolts. "What? No. No, no, I'm not -- unless you want to break up with me--" 

"No, we don't want to fucking break up with you," Eddie snaps. Richie's breath comes out in a shudder. Stan wants to stand up and wrap them both in a too-tight, burrowed-together hug. But they can't move. "What the fuck, Stanley? You can't just text us 'we need to talk,' that's like classic break-up shit." 

"So why do you need to talk?" Richie's voice is quiet in a way it only is when he's upset. Stan wants to shrivel up into their sweater because they did that to Richie. And they're about to make it worse.

_ Or not,  _ Pat's voice says firmly in their head, an echo of this morning.  _ Maybe they'll screw it up, but maybe they won't. Why don't you give them a chance to prove you wrong? _

Stan takes a long shaky breath in and blows it out. "Will you come sit by me? Please. If you're comfortable." 

"Why the fuck wouldn't we be comfortable?" Eddie says. Richie brushes past him and sits on the coffee table across from Stan. His legs are so long that their knees touch. Eddie perches on the arm of the couch, still frowning. They're both so close to Stan, yet Stan feels distant, like there's an unbreakable sheet of glass between them. 

Stan opens their mouth to speak, but their tongue seems too thick to form words. Richie's knees jiggle. When Stan swallows around a small, frustrated sound, Richie grabs both of their hands and holds on tight. "Hey," Richie says in a gentle voice he never uses in public. "You're scaring the shit out of me, man. What's up?"

"Are you sick?" Eddie says tersely. "Are you sick, is that what's wrong? Is it cancer?"

Stan shakes their head sharply. They recall with a start that Eddie's dad can't have been much older than they are now when he died. 

"Please just fucking tell us," Richie says, squeezing Stan's hands. "I won't be mad, okay? I'll shut the fuck up. Look, shutting up." He lets go of one of Stan's hands to zip his lips. He stares pointedly at Eddie until Eddie sighs and zips his lips too. 

Stan nods, more to steel themself than anything. They use their free hand to scrub at their face. "I want to, uh, I want to preface this by saying that if you want to break up with me after this, I won't blame you. This isn't anything you signed up for." Richie makes a sharp noise in his throat, but Stan says quickly, "Lips are zipped." Richie subsides with an anxious frown.

Stan lets go of Richie's hand and wipes their palms on their jeans. "So the, um, the support group I've been going to is really good. It's at Sylvia and Marsha's House downtown. I don't know if you've heard of it?" Stan isn't surprised when Richie and Eddie shake their heads - they've only lived in Atlanta for a little over a month. "It's a really good group. Some of the people there remind me of both of you, actually." 

Stan wipes their hands on their jeans again. They stare at the weave of the fabric and not up at Richie and Eddie. They clear their throat.

"It's a trans support group," they say. They hesitate. "For--for people like me. Because--because I'm nonbinary."

Stan expects one of them to say something right away. That's what Richie and Eddie do -- they react. Stan is the one who sits back quietly and lets their thoughts percolate before they speak. As the silence stretches on, Stan's clammy hands start to tremble finely. 

_ Be patient, _ Pat said, but Stan can't be. Not right now. Not like this.

"Like I said," they say, voice cracking, "I can leave. I know this isn't what you signed up for." 

"What the fuck," two voices say. Eddie sounds stunned, but Richie sounds angry. "What the fuck, are you kidding me? Look at me, Stanny. Look at me." Stan looks up reluctantly and finds that Richie's blue eyes are huge and overbright behind his glasses. "Do you think I don't love you or something?" Stan shakes their head, but Richie gestures wildly to Eddie. "Do you think I would leave Eddie if Eddie was nonbinary?"

Stan can feel their whole face wobbling. They mean to say something to deflect the intensity of Richie's stare. Instead, the shaking truth spills out: "But I'm not Eddie."

"Stan," Eddie says, as breathless as if he's been socked in the gut. 

Richie blinks rapidly before frustrated tears start dripping down his nose. "I love you as much as I love Eddie," he says. 

Stan’s chest seizes up. They know Richie loves them, and Eddie loves them, but Richie and Eddie dated for years before Stan entered the picture, and - 

"We want you here," Richie says thickly. "Don’t you know that?"

"Hey," Eddie says. He slides off the arm of the couch and lands on the cushion beside Stan. One of his arms comes around Stan's shoulders. "Hang on a second, Rich. Let him--" Eddie pauses, backtracks. His face is a little pinched with worry like it always is, but his eyes are soft. "Them?" Eddie tries. Stan shudders through a breath and nods. "Let them breathe," Eddie says. "They were so fucking scared, weren't you, sweetheart?"

Eddie's gentleness finally undoes Stan. They fold into the couch, covering their face with their hands. Eddie curls around them. Richie falls into place on Stan's other side and wraps his long arms around both of them. 

For many minutes, Richie and Eddie fill the space around Stan with 

“honey"

and "sweetheart"

and "lovebird."

Stan sinks into their words. They've almost gotten ahold of themselves when Eddie says fiercely, "It's fucking awesome that you're nonbinary," and then Stan’s crying again.

“Sorry,” they say. They don’t want to wipe their face on their nice sweater sleeves, so they wipe it on the shoulder of Richie’s ratty t-shirt instead. 

Richie snorts. “Remember when I came out as gay and puked all over Eddie’s gym shoes?”

“I was happy not remembering, thanks,” Eddie says. 

Stan starts to smile, but Richie’s words catch up with them. “It’s okay--that I’m nonbinary--even though you’re gay?”

They can feel Richie shrug. “I’m more attached to you than I am to being gay.”

“Same,” Eddie says. “Though I might keep calling myself gay if that’s okay?”

“I don’t mind.” Stan leans against both of them before straightening up - it’s getting a little hard to breathe in the middle of the cuddle pile. 

“What do you mind?” Richie asks. He’s still got one broad hand splayed across Stan’s thigh. “I mean, how we talk about you and stuff. Like, I’ve been saying boyfriends, but--” Richie’s brow furrows the way it does when one part of his brain is leaping ahead of the rest of him. “Girlfriend isn’t right, is it?”

Stan shakes their head. “Definitely not a girl. Or a woman. Just not a man either.”

“Got it, got it. Uhh….personfriend? Life mate? Oh! Are we going with cowhand speak, pardner?”

Stan grins. “Howdy.” 

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t encourage him, you know this only leads to Brokeback jokes.” 

“What about other stuff?” Richie asks. “Like--I know I say ‘dude’ and ‘man’ a lot, and I’ll definitely stop that. Is ‘buddy’ okay?”

“Has ‘buddy’ ever been okay?” Stan nudges Richie with their shoulder. “I don’t really like it, but I won’t be upset if it slips out.”

“Well, I’m gonna make sure it doesn’t slip out.” Richie squeezes Stan’s thigh. “If I fuck up, tell me. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Stan can’t figure out how to respond without welling up again. Luckily, Eddie’s already bounding ahead with questions of his own: “Do you want to come out to everyone else? Have you come out to anyone else?”

Stan nods. “Bev, on Halloween. And everyone at group.” 

“Aw, Bev. Is that why she’s been sending you mysterious packages?” Eddie asks. Stan nods. Eddie freezes up. “Wait, Halloween?” Stan nods. “Fuck,” Eddie says. “Oh, fuck, that’s why you were upset. Because I said that stupid shit about doing drag, but you were talking about--you were gonna wear something Bev sent. Like, not as drag, as you.” 

Stan shrugs uncomfortably. “It’s okay. It’s not like I told you.”

“Okay, but obviously I, I created some kind of environment where you didn’t feel safe telling me. Both of us,” Eddie gestures to Richie. “Because you’ve known for a while, right? And you haven’t been able to say anything?”

Stan shakes his head. “It wasn’t that. It was--how long did you know you were gay before you came out?”

Eddie looks up toward the ceiling, obviously counting back in his head. “A couple years at least.”

“What about you, Rich?”

Richie laughs. “I knew when we were in nursery school, I just didn’t have the words for it.”

“So why didn’t you tell me before? Was it because I made you feel unsafe?”

“Derry made me feel unsafe,” Richie says. “But it wasn’t just that, it was -- I loved both of you a whole damn lot, and even though I was pretty sure you would still be my friends, it just seemed like too big a gamble, you know?” He pauses, thinking. “So yeah, I get it. But.” Richie pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “When you were texting last night, and then you deleted it. Were you talking about us?” 

Stan startles as if they’ve missed a step on the stairs. “Not about you,” they protest immediately, “I wasn’t--it wasn’t--”

“Don’t be mad, Richie,” Eddie snaps over Stan’s head. 

“I’m not mad,” Richie says, “I just want to know. ‘Cause I feel like I fucked something up and I want to know what it was so I don’t do it again.” 

Stan shakes their head. “You didn’t fuck anything up.” They can feel their ears burning. “It was actually...it was a really good thing you said that caught me off guard. What you said about me looking like Benicio. You know, in the wedding dress.” 

Richie frowns for a moment before his eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, so it--you--okay, okay, hang on, let my brain work this one out. When I said that, it made you feel good?” Stan nods. “Because it was the part where he’s wearing a dress?” Stan nods again. Richie kisses their temple swiftly. “Babe. You absolutely look like that. You’re so pretty.” 

Stan’s whole face is red now, heat creeping down their neck to their collarbones, but before they can say anything Eddie says, “But it upset you too. Otherwise you wouldn’t have run off.”

Stan swallows. “It wasn’t....you know, this is really new for me. I’ve only known for a few weeks. Sometimes it still scares me a lot. And I wasn’t out to you yet, and it scared me that maybe you were guessing. So I--I texted Pat. From group, the one who was sick. They’re nonbinary too, but they’ve been out longer, and they’re the group leader, so I thought they might be able to help. But then--I don’t know,” Stan says miserably. “I’m sorry. I was scared, and I was tired, and it’s a lot. It’s so much to realize I’m not exactly what I thought I was.” 

“Hey.” Richie tugs Stan into a hug. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m really not mad. I just--you know me, big stupid Richie assuming the worst. So Pat, huh? Are they cool?”

Stan laughs. “They’re a fifth-grade teacher and a support group leader. They are decidedly not cool.”

“Of course we move to a new state and you still find more Losers,” Eddie says, playing exasperated but sounding fond. He gently wraps one of Stan’s curls around his index finger and releases it so it springs back. 

Stan leans into the touch. Now that they’ve talked so much, their body feels drained and limp and shaky. They sag against their boyfriends. 

“We love you,” Eddie says. ‘Okay? You.” Stan nods. Eddie twirls one of Stan’s curls again. 

“Okay,” Richie says, drawing out the “ayyyyyyy,” and claps his hands together. “Celebratory dinner! And champagne! Or tequila?” He wobbles his lower lip and gives Stan the most pitiful puppy dog eyes. 

“No tequila,” Stan says firmly. “I’m having too many emotions already. But I won’t say no to champagne or sushi.”

“Aha!” Richie waggles his eyebrows. “Stanny wants more of the infamous Richie Roll?”

Eddie makes a dying Pac-Man sound. “I’m divorcing both of you.” 

“Are we married now, Eds?”

Eddie scowls. “I will marry you TO divorce you, dumbass.” 

Stan stays between them while they bicker. As they settle in to wait for their dinner to be delivered, Stan ends up with their head in Eddie’s lap and feet in Richie’s. Richie uses his knuckles to rub the tension out of Stan’s arches; Eddie idly toys with their hair while he argues with Richie about what movie they’re watching. Stan closes their eyes and drifts a little, feeling worn-out and safe. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and check out Georgia Peaches @GeorgiaSmau on twitter!


End file.
